Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The door to the adjoining room burst open with such force that it shuddered.
Lilly staggered into Marian’s chamber, her eyes wild with fear and concern, her face still puffy with sleep. Her legs trembled as she made her way to the side of the bed, where her mistress stood frozen.
“What happened?” she croaked, holding up a lamp to Marian’s face.
She gasped and reached out to feel her forehead with the back of her free hand.
“My Lady!” Her voice was clearer this time. “You look like you have seen a ghost!”
Marian shuddered at the word. She wasn’t usually one to give thought to superstition, but it was the early hours of the morning, and the Highlands were notorious for strange happenings.
Could the castle really be haunted?
Lilly put an arm around her, gently guiding her to sit.
Marian hesitated.
Could there be something else beneath the sheets?
Her pulse quickened as she tugged off the rest of the blankets, fluffing them before sitting on the bed.
“What happened, my Lady?” Lilly asked her again after she seemed to have settled.
“Something was on me.” Marian stared at the part of the bed where Lilly was now sitting, color slowly draining from her cheeks as she pointed. “Right there.”
“Excuse me?” Lilly yelped, almost tripping on her frock. She gathered herself as best as she could before speaking again in a more polite manner. “Pardon me, my Lady. What was it?”
Marian sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I did not see it. But I felt it move against my legs. I was startled, and it just… vanished.”
“It vanished?” Lilly repeated her words as if they were gibberish. “My Lady, are you certain?”
“I am of clear mind,” Marian responded, frowning slightly. “Whatever it was, I did not hear it leave.” She paused for a moment to look around. “It must be lurking somewhere here.”
Lilly’s eyes went so wide, she looked like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Lilly!” Marian called, jolting her out of her daze. “Could you please look around? Maybe you’ll be able to find it.”
Lilly blinked. “You w-want…” she stammered. “My Lady. You want me to look…”
Marian merely stared at her. Her throat bobbed as she waited for her to get up and begin the search.
Lilly shifted, realizing the gravity of the situation.
“Of course!” she squeaked. “It is my duty to protect you whilst we’re here, and I shall…” She swallowed, fear flashing in her eyes. “I shall investigate.”
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the lamp from the bedside table.
Marian lurched forward, holding her hand. “Wait!”
Lilly froze.
“You cannot take the lamp,” Marian blurted.
Poor Lilly immediately turned paler. She looked terrified.
Marian’s heart squeezed at the sight. Unlike her, the maid spent much of her time listening to and believing in superstitions. If there were indeed a ghost hiding in the room, she was sure to pass out first.
“I cannot?” Lilly’s voice came out small, almost pleading.
Marian glanced at the open window. It was daybreak now, but the room was not nearly bright enough for comfort. Not with the possibility of something lurking in the shadows.
She looked back at Lilly. The poor girl was visibly tense and clutching her nightgown with her free hand.
Marian’s resolve faltered.
“Let us investigate together.” Her tone was warmer now, almost apologetic.
Lilly nodded.
They stood by the bed, Marian holding the lamp and Lilly fidgeting behind her, both unsure of what to do next.
Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” Marian and Lilly shouted in unison, staring wide-eyed at the door.
It took Marian a second to process. Lilly’s arms wrapped around her waist instinctively. Her grip tightened slightly before loosening as quickly as it had.
“The Laird requests yer presence in his study,” a boy’s voice answered quickly from outside the door, and Marian frowned.
This early?
Lilly straightened, clearing her throat.
“What about breakfast?” Marian called.
There was a pause. The boy was probably surprised that she’d asked.
“The Laird didnae mention breakfast, me Lady,” he answered, eventually.
Marian sighed. She set the lamp on the table and sank back onto her bed, not bothering to answer the door.
Suddenly, the possibility of sharing her chambers with a ghost did not seem nearly as dreadful.
“Very well,” she said. “I will come shortly.”
Lachlan stood at the window in his study, staring out at the glen as the morning mist cleared slowly.
He hadn’t slept.
The English lass had only been in his castle for one night, and already everything felt off.
His hands balled into fists at his sides as he thought of what to say to her. He had expected her to flee after the first night. Instead, she’d demanded breakfast.
Perhaps he would read her some stringent Highland rules, so she would realize quickly that she didn’t belong here. Glen Carrick wasn’t some English castle to wine and dine in. It was his fortress.
A knock sounded at the door, and Finn stepped in without waiting for permission.
“Ye look like shite,” the young man-at-arms said cheerfully, dropping into the chair across from his desk.
Lachlan snorted. “Good mornin’ to ye, too,” he murmured, before walking toward his desk and lowering himself into his chair.
Finn grinned, tilting his head. “Ye’re in a sour mood. I take it the Englishwoman isnae leavin’, then?”
Lachlan’s jaw clenched slightly. “Aye. I already sent for her.”
“I thought she’d be readyin’ her carriage by now,” Finn said, leaning back in his chair. “She’s courageous for an Englishwoman.”
Lachlan nodded, considering mentioning her breakfast demands for a moment.
“The men will talk, ye ken. There’s already the topic of her deed and whether she’s truly got a claim to Glen Carrick,” Finn added.
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “We daenae ken that yet.”
“But ye’re lettin’ her stay as long as she wants.”
“I’m nae lettin’ her do anythin’,” Lachlan said sharply. “The steward’s comin’ to settle the matter soon. Until then… she’s a guest.”
“A guest,” Finn repeated, his voice filled with skepticism. “Is that what we’re callin’ her?”
Lachlan turned toward the window, his expression hard. “What would ye rather I call her? An heir?”
Finn studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I daenae ken. But the way ye looked at her yesterday… doesnae seem like ye’ll treat her as just a guest.”
Lachlan’s jaw tightened, and he balled his fists at his sides. Finn’s words pricked at him. “Watch yer tongue, Finn.”
“I’m just sayin’—”
“I ken what ye’re sayin’. And ye’re wrong.”
Finn raised his hands in mock surrender. “Aye, me Laird. Whatever ye say.” He rose and headed toward the door before pausing with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, she’s nae like the others. English or nae.”
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door.
Finn looked back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“She’s here,” he intoned, turning the knob to pull the door open. “Mornin’, me Lady,” he greeted.
Marian nodded before walking into the room.
Finn closed the door behind him with a grin, leaving Lachlan alone with her for the first time.
Lachlan watched as she gracefully moved across the room and lowered herself into the chair Finn had vacated.
She’s nae like the others.
That was the problem.
Marian sat across from the Laird, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Her back was straight against the cushions, and she kept a pleasant look on her face despite the growing tension in her shoulders.
How much longer must this go on?
The meeting had stretched on for longer than she thought necessary.
Or perhaps she only felt that way because she had little interest in the topics the Laird had chosen to ramble about.
Highland rules and customs. Ranks and clan hierarchy.
Estate maintenance, alliances, foes, and things of that sort.
She strained her ears to keep up with his fast Scottish brogue. Her eyes wandered from his moving lips to his dark hair and finally to the bookshelf behind him.
It was small, unlike everything else in the castle.
It is a surprise he reads at all.
She squinted her eyes, trying to read some of the titles from where she sat.
Perhaps the books belonged to someone else. His father, or even his grandfather.
He cleared his throat, and she dragged her gaze back to him.
“I trust ye follow,” he said.
She nodded a touch too quickly. “I do.”
He leaned back in his chair, his movements causing the linen of his shirt to shift, parting briefly across his chest before settling again.
Marian’s heart skipped a beat. She tore her eyes away, glancing at his face to see if he had noticed. The corner of his lips twitched, and his gaze darkened as he stared at her, tapping a finger on the desk in front of him.
The room suddenly felt hotter.
Marian shifted in her seat, as if to move away from the source of the heat.
The Laird’s eyes narrowed as they slowly drifted to her lips, lingering there until she could no longer ignore the flutter in her chest.
She rose abruptly to her feet, the movement surprising even herself. She took a deep breath, hesitating for a brief moment before turning toward the door.
“What are ye doin’?” the Laird asked with a frown.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Leaving. I believe it is time for breakfast.”
She walked toward the door. But he moved faster, stepping around the desk and into her path before she could reach it.
The space between them vanished in an instant.
“We arenae finished.”
Marian lifted her chin, her heart pounding hard as the moment stretched between them. “Then perhaps you should have chosen a better hour to begin,” she said in a barely even tone.
The Laird’s mouth curled into a faint smile. He held her gaze for a moment, running his hand through his hair.
“Ye still daenae understand this place.” His voice was almost a low growl. He deliberately lowered himself to her eye level and added, “I’ll teach ye another way.”
Marian’s breath caught. She felt her cheeks flush, but did not speak. His proximity unsettled her more than the threat had.
She stepped past him, her shoulder brushing slightly against his side. His scent wrapped around her, filling the narrow space between them, clean and sharp beneath the smoke of the hearth like white musk carried on cold Highland air.
He moved reluctantly to give her more room before returning to his desk without another word.
She returned to her seat and smoothed her skirts as she sat, as though the conversation were perfectly ordinary.
“We should set some rules,” she declared, her tone even.
The Laird straightened up. “Aye,” he replied, folding his arms. “We should.”
Marian faced him fully. “Until we receive news of the final decision, I shall behave as a… guest of this castle.” She swallowed as she said the word.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Meanin’?”
“Meaning I shall not interfere with the running of this estate.” She lifted her chin slightly. “But I shall be treated with the respect afforded to a gently bred lady staying under your roof.”
He studied her for a moment. His eyes softened just as his jaw tightened, and an unreadable emotion crossed his features before he responded. “Aye, that’ll do.”
Marian nodded once. Her lips curled slightly as she made one more demand. “And you will not speak Gaelic in my presence when matters concern me.”
The Laird’s brow furrowed slightly. “That is a bold request.”
“It is a reasonable one,” she replied, relaxing slightly into her seat. “If I am expected to remain here, I should at least understand what is being said about me.”
He leaned forward, considering for several seconds before shrugging slightly. “Fine,” he said, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. “When the conversation concerns ye, I’ll speak yer tongue.”
Marian allowed herself the smallest nod of victory. “Good.”
“Me turn then.” His voice lowered as he rose from his chair again.
He walked to her side of the desk in slow, deliberate strides, his gaze darkening with each step.
“Ye stay out of me affairs. Ye daenae question me people, or give them orders. Ye daenae wander this castle as though it belongs to ye.” He stepped an inch closer before adding in a more gravelly tone, “There are parts of this castle that answer only to me. Best ye remember that.”
She tilted her head. “Only to you? Why?”
His jaw tightened. “Because ye might get hurt.” Then he stepped even closer, just a breath away from her. “And because we have to keep ye well clear of me chambers… for both our sakes.”
Marian’s breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat. Something about the way he had said those words made it feel as though his warning was a promise she shouldn’t ignore.
Eventually, she stood up, smoothing her sleeve as he watched her bare wrist.
“Very well, Laird MacLeod,” she said, moving toward the door. “It seems we have an understanding.”
He watched her as she walked away.
Her steps slowed, then she paused, considering something before turning around to ask, “One more question: is the castle haunted?”
The Laird blinked, caught off guard. Then he smirked faintly. “Only by annoyin’ Sassenachs.”
Marian rolled her eyes and walked out.